


Skinny Love

by artificialmay



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Angst, M/M, Songfic, i have a niche genre okay?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 16:06:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11878008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artificialmay/pseuds/artificialmay
Summary: What can you do when you loved someone selfishly, but you now have to turn your back on them?I was getting a little upset at the lack of Rajila, and since I love this ship more than literally anything in the world here I am with this kinda angsty songfic (I’m so versatile) based on the song Skinny Love.





	Skinny Love

The world saw Manila as a pretty happy person, after all, the whole character she presented was a campy, crazy, cross-eyed bundle of cheer. And normally Manila regarded herself as a pretty happy person. The emotions he had, that he felt out of drag, not as pretty happy Manila but simply as Karl that he preferred to hold private. Truth be told, he wouldn’t call himself sad, just drained.

He had trouble finding the excitement in drag nowadays, in painting his face or stitching his next outfit. He had trouble coming up with inspiration for his performances or his art, and he’d sit himself down and try to figure out where he was going with his life, only to give up, frustrated. If his pillow could bruise, it would black and blue from the continual beatings Karl instilled upon it in frustration during each sleepless night.

And if you asked him, Karl could tell you exactly why he felt this way.

_Come on skinny love, just last the year,  
_ _Pour a little salt we were never here._

Ever since they’d competed together on Season 3, Karl had always felt himself pulled toward Sutan, and they’d been best friends. It was almost natural when they slipped into a more complex area, more emotions swirling around like sand whipped by the wind on a wintery beach, stinging the cheeks and irritating the eyes. They were entering a weird sort of relationship, that they never tried to define too much, lest the clarity impede upon the sheer happiness they had both felt.

Karl remembers the first few shows after they’d gotten together for the first time – they’d giggled together in the dressing room, snuggling maybe just a little bit too much, not necessarily oblivious to the other queens’ raised eyebrows or half smirks. No one had asked any questions though, Raja and Manila were two incredible forces in drag, and they had that natural rapport, a dynamic chemistry that made them as successful as they were. And besides, two season 3 queens who had been friends forever wasn’t going to hold the interest of a crowd who were so intent on every move and interaction between the newer, younger, prettier queens.

The turning point, where the relationship had begun to turn into more of a labour of love than an expression of love, was much like their entire journey together; undefinable. In hindsight, Karl knew it would be completely pointless, harmful, to pretend that everything was completely fine, but he still does, he keeps the relationship burning. Burning like a fire that’s dwindled down to just embers that he keeps fanning in a desperate hope to start a blaze again. Instead all that happens is blinding hot ashes and smoke and dust get blown up into each other’s faces.

Karl wished he could just be strong, and remove all presences of Sutan from his life, and have this whole affair over and done with. Pretend nothing had ever happened and that their romance had never existed. Water his heart so that new love could grow there, and gain back the love he had for his art from the very start.

 _Staring at the sink of blood and crushed veneer,_  
_I tell my love to wreck it all._  
  
The reason he doesn’t just say something is Sutan, of course. Normally, the two are upfront people, they have an opinion – they share it. They don’t believe in skirting around the truth, they want no lies in communication, usually. Which doesn’t really explain all the tiptoeing the two of them have been doing recently.

But he stays to keep himself together. The older queen always had a kind of easy confidence that just radiated off of him, that was infectious. Karl would soak it up like a sponge, the insecurities that riddled him falling off his shoulders so he felt as though he could fly. With Sutan, Karl was supported. But that support wasn’t a pillion allowing him to stand on his own. No. A fragile plinth of wax, that too much time had melted away, so Karl now knew he was leaning on Sutan just to have someone to reassure him. And Karl knows that that’s not fair.

_Cut out all the ropes and let me fall.  
_ _Right in the moment disorder’s tall._

Sutan is still always there when Karl needs him. And that’s not always often, but it happens enough that Karl feels guilty for drawing so much out of Sutan when he offers nothing in return. To Karl, the relationship just feels like its running on lust, whatever else there used to be has been used up. And lust can only sustain two people who think they’re in love for so long. They spend every night together almost, but it’s never because they’ve turned the bed into a blanket fort and talked for hours about tiny little details and odd tangents, only falling asleep because it becomes physically impossible to keep their eyes open.

_And I told you to be patient_  
_And I told you to be fine_  
_And I told you to be balanced  
_ _And I told you to be kind_

Being molded into a new and better person takes time. And looking back, Karl wonders if the only reason he ever fell into Sutan’s arms at the very start was because he needed someone so desperately to fix him, and there someone was. Being a runner up was hard, and for a while, with Sutan, Karl felt like a winner. But now, he didn’t need him anymore.

Sutan’s hands were a potent cleanse, removing layers of insecurities with every light touch, and his lips were a blessing, for Karl to revel in and worship. Now, it just makes Karl feel a little uncomfortable, cloying. He’s not sure why the switch changed, but it has, and now he’s trapped in a relationship he doesn’t want to be in, receiving a love he knows he doesn’t deserve.

_And in the morning I’ll be with you  
_ _But it will be a different kind_

Karl had never asked if Sutan was alright, properly alright. He’d been too busy pulling as much as he could from the other man, and never took the initiative to give some of himself to the older man. He’s been selfish, and this just adds more panic to the whirling thunderstorm of his brain. He wants to be better to the man he’s supposed to love, and he knows he can but there’s something holding him back. It’s probably himself.

And he knows Sutan’s noticed a difference. He’d have to be blind not to.

_And I’ll be holding all the tickets  
_ _And you’ll be owing all the fines_

They’ve both paid a price to be in this wasted relationship. Karl owes Sutan so much, but he has no way of paying him back. He supposes the only way would be love, but no matter how deep within himself he looks, he comes up dry. There’s a fondness, but there’s not the love or the feeling of crush that haunted him through Season 3 and its resulting aftermath.

 _How did we get here?_  he thinks every night as Sutan lies next to him, fast asleep. His hand is always right there, gently curling in on itself with sleep, and Karl knows it would be so easy to reach out and grab it, hold Sutan again, and rekindle what they had. He knows their fate hinges on him, and as he makes himself more distant, he can see Sutan begin to mirror him.

_And now all your love is wasted  
_ _And then who the hell was I?_

Last night, Karl texted Sutan to meet him for breakfast. And he’d laid out what he’d say. How he couldn’t keep going, that the part of him that loves Sutan and what they have together so deeply and passionately is being outspoken by the regret of relying on Sutan. The regret of spoiling what could have been so beautiful. The regret of breaking himself down to such a dismal position. The regret is the loudest voice in his head right now, so he supposes he should act on that. The game has gone on for long enough. Maybe one day he’ll be able to love Sutan like he used to, one day the feelings will return but right now he just feels like he’s being stifled and stopping Sutan from flying. Guilt. What he feels is guilt.

His bus pulls up at his stop, and as he boards the bus and settles into the sesat, the seconds to the confrontation ticking away, he tucks his headphones into his ears and presses shuffle. Closing his eyes to the slow melody and bitter lyrics he allows himself to mull.

This is the right decision.

_Who will love you?_  
_Who will fight?  
_ _Who will fall far behind?_


End file.
